A Complicated Secret
by aBoyWillDo
Summary: Hermione is keeping something from Ron. Can he figure it out?
1. Breakfast Bummer

Disclaimer: not mine, just playing

I sat groggily at the breakfast table. The only reason I drag my butt out of bed on a Saturday morning is to eat with Hermione. There's really nothing that happens at breakfast that can't be made up by eating more lunch. I waited. I ate. I waited. I ate more. She never showed. In all our years here, she had never missed Saturday breakfast. Except when she turned herself into a cat. Or that time she got petrified. I had a feeling that she hadn't done either of those things again. My girl's not exactly one who makes the same mistake twice.

I finally decided that waiting was a waste of time. I went back upstairs debating whether it was worth going back to sleep. I stepped through the portrait hole into the empty common room. Well, almost empty. I practically missed Ginny hunched over a book, but her reflection in the window looked so intense that I knew not to bother her.

I was crossing the room when Hermione came barreling down the stairs. She ran right past me and skidded into a chair next to my sister. I'm not sure she even saw me. I stared after her. They were both facing away from me. I saw Hermione toss a book on the table, flip through it, and point at something. I had never seen her treat a book so roughly. I stood quietly hoping to overhear a few words. A few words is all I got.

"…late …thanks for…won't tell…test…Wizards don't…get one…owl…should I…"

I couldn't even tell who said what. Now _that_ was a waste of time. I went upstairs to see if Harry was awake. He wasn't, and he was snoring like—what's the Muggle phrase Harry said about Seamus—like a drinking snail…no… drunken sailor. I couldn't start on my homework. On a Saturday morning? What kind of reputation would I get? So I turned my attention to guessing what was so important that Hermione would alter her precious Saturday schedule. And forgo the courtesy letting me know.

Homework crisis? Hermione could never have a homework crisis _that_ serious. I would, but I think she already has the homework done for the rest of the year, and possibly next year. And besides, frantically showing a book to Ginny wouldn't fix that.

Maybe Ginny's having a homework crisis? No. Hermione would have told me what a bad role model I am when she barreled past. She wouldn't miss that opportunity. Unless she's planning that for later.

Maybe one of them has a weird disease. Hermione loves looking up symptoms. _Harry's scar is hurting? You should tell Dumbledore. I'm going to do some research in the library_. Yes, she does love looking up symptoms. But Wizards don't get whatever it is they're talking about. Diseases are out.

Oh, Merlin. It's not about a boy, is it? Who do I have to keep an eye on? No one dates Ginny Weasley without being threatened by at least 3 Weasley boys. Wait. Boys don't have anything to do with tests. And no boys at Hogwarts are in any books. Except maybe Harry. But there's nothing in books that they don't already know. Glad it's not a boy. Unless that was one of those stupid Muggle self-help books with advice and relationship tests. Sounds like a bunch of crap to me. But girls do stupid…

Harry's snoring changed to his "I'm dreaming" snoring with all the snorting and moaning and thrashing. It's bloody annoying, really. I don't say anything about it if it has to do with you-know-who. But there's been no news of him this year, no scar hurting. So I chucked a pair of balled-up socks at him. Aim was a little off, and they hit him right in the face. Can't say he didn't deserve it.


	2. The Woman Thing

"We only have an hour and a half before Harry gets out of detention. I promised him a game of Wizards' chess," I said, tugging Hermione into a long-empty classroom. She followed somewhat reluctantly.

"Ron, you really should get started on your homework before you play chess. You're behind in Potions and haven't started the History of Magic essay."

"So I'll stay up late," I said as I wrapped my arms around her waist. "With all the school work and Quidditch, we haven't been _alone_ for ages."

I kissed her, and for a moment I thought I'd have to convince her to stay. She hesitated, neither leaning against me nor pulling away. My left hand pressed the small of her back, and she started to respond. Her lips parted. She wound fingers in my hair and turned into the vixen I appreciate on so many levels. Well, maybe just one level. She kissed me around the room until she was backed against a desk. She kissed the soft spot behind my ear, licked a trail along my jaw, and sunk her teeth gently into my neck. By some mystic talent she never left a mark. I pushed the sweater from her shoulder, smiling at the pink camisole that was left. I like pink on her. Made her look innocent, soft, and sweet. Which at times, like now, is far from true.

"I've missed you." She unbuttoned my shirt as she spoke. I had one hand over her heart about to push the strap from her shoulder. I tried to run my other hand up her thigh under her skirt, but she grabbed my wrist.

"What's wrong?" It was so out of character for her to get going and then change her mind, and I couldn't place the expression on her face.

"I don't really want to right now," she said, her voice as odd as her expression.

"I can feel your heartbeat. You do want this," I murmured, nuzzling her left ear.

"No, really, I don't. It's a—it's a—a woman thing." She looked down as she spoke, awkward and shy. She was never abashed about woman things. ("Honestly, Ron, menstruation is just a natural bodily function." Ewwwww.) She looked around for her sweater. I picked it up off the floor.

"What's really on your mind, 'Mione?"

"It's a woman thing; I told you. Now leave it alone."

I reached to tilt her chin up to look into her eyes, but she walked out when my fingers touched her face. I stared after her, puzzled. That wasn't my Hermione. My fact-forward, chin-up, no-shame, kiss-me-_now_ Hermione. It stung a bit to be so solidly rejected, not that I'd ever admit that out loud. I tried to figure out what I did wrong in the three seconds between the unbuttoning of my shirt and my hand touching her leg, but I came up with nothing. I fixed my shirt and paced around the room a few times before heading back to Gryffindor. I practically stomped up the stairs and flung myself onto my bed like a pissed off, PMSing 13-year-old girl. Not exactly a moment I'm proud of. An hour until Harry comes back. For the first time in years, I started my homework at a reasonable hour without being cornered by Hermione. It was disgusting.

I went down to the common room, hoping to see Hermione. Hermione was nowhere in sight, but Harry was early getting back from detention. As we played our game of chess, we bullshitted about the usual.

"When I came back from Snape's, I ran into Malfoy."

"What was the slimy git doing? Admiring his ugly face in a picture-frame reflection?"

"Tormenting first year Hufflepuff girls. Two of them were crying. Don't worry. I turned his hair maroon and gold. And it won't come out for days."

"That's hilarious," I laughed.

"Speaking of hilarious, sorta, have you read my History of Magic notes? Great marginal commentary. _Giants. They're big. Got it._ Terrible for essay writing. Do you have Hermione's notes?"

I felt the burn of her earlier rejection again. "No. But mine aren't bad. You can use them." Getting the conversation away from Hermione I asked, "Is that new Chaser doing any better?"

"She's still awful. I don't know how she made it onto the team in the first place. I have a theory that maybe…" I stopped listening. Harry was trying to solve the great Quidditch Conspiracy mystery, but I was wracking my brain for some explanation of Hermione's behavior. She wasn't eating more dessert than me or trying to secretly swallow some kind of Muggle pills called 'Mitol' or something like that. It wasn't the time of her—woman thing. It disturbs me that I'm so well-informed on that subject.

I didn't realize how distracted I was until Harry called "Checkmate" out of nowhere.

"Good game," I told him.

"I'd ask for another, but we should get started on our essays," Harry said, packing up the chess pieces. We trudged up the stairs. Harry stared at the books and parchment scattered on my bed and gave me a questioning look.

"I started when you were in detention."

"I would've thought you'd have been with Hermione."

"Me, too."

"Want to talk?"

"Not really, but thanks. Is it okay if I borrow the invisibility cloak? It's late and I want to sneak out and hole-up somewhere to work. Alone."

"Sure." He dug it out of his trunk.

I scooped up my books, leaving my notes for Harry, and flung the cloak around me. I moved aimlessly in the halls for awhile and found myself at my and Hermione's classroom as though my subconscious thought the room held the answer. In a way, it did. I was so startled to see Hermione at one of the desks that my books and the cloak cascaded to the floor. She jumped.

"You scared me half to death," she scolded. She was looking at me. A big improvement from earlier.

"Sorry. I didn't expect to see you. Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, but please, Hermione, what did I do?" The light in the room didn't illuminate much more than her books, but I swear I saw tears in her eyes. She whispered something, but I didn't catch it. Leaving my books on the floor I walked over to her. She stood.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean for things to end that way."

"I believe you. But what mysterious woman thing is going on? I know you're not on your, um, you-know."

"Period, Ron. And nothing's going on with me." She bit her lip and lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Hermione," I said. She let me brush stray hair from her face and lift her chin. "You're a terrible liar. What did I do? Just tell me."

"It's not a lie," she whispered. "And you didn't do anything. I promise."

"You can tell me anything."

"Not this. Not now." She kissed me first. Probably to keep me from asking questions. I felt a stray tear move from her cheek to mine.

"Hermione, stop," I said. She followed me as I pulled back.

"I'm not quite as dense as you think I am," I said moving back more. "I know you don't want to kiss me. You just want me to shut up. When you actually want my company, you can come find me. Good night." I picked up my stuff and stormed out.

I was halfway back to the tower when I heard footsteps. I barely had time to throw the cloak over me before Filch turned the corner. I backed against the wall. I was shaking with anger, and I hoped the cloak wasn't swirling around my ankles. Height was great for reaching the top shelf, but not so much for sneaking around under invisibility cloaks. I tried to crouch down.

I paced myself back to Gryffindor, trying to be in control. I tossed the cloak from my shoulders outside the dormitory room. I could feel Harry's eyes on me as I climbed into bed.


	3. Clean Socks

Harry sat next to Hermione at breakfast the next morning, and I had no reason not to follow. Well, I had reasons but nothing I was willing to explain. We exchanged pleasantries, and I could tell that there was something she was itching to say to me privately. Harry and I watched as she slathered her toast in butter and dumped heaps of sugar into her cereal.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. "I thought you were afraid of cavities and cholesterol."

"I'm not afraid. Just practical. And of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason," Harry replied cautiously. I watched him cringe. Hermione was in one of her touchy moods.

"Did you get your homework done, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"I did. And Harry borrowed _my_ notes last night."

"Because you're not as dense as people think you are," Hermione snapped. Harry looked from her face to mine and back to hers again.

"I have to go, er, put on clean socks," he threw over his shoulder as he rushed out. Hermione and I laughed at him, until we looked at each other. Nothing was funny after that.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I did, but I changed my mind," she replied shortly. Ignoring my plate of toast, bacon, eggs, and sausage, I stared at her.

"What's going on? What is it that you can't bear to tell me? Which is a stupid question because you've made it quite clear that you don't trust me enough to tell me," I yell-whispered. I didn't know that was possible until I heard those words come out so harshly that quietly. She looked like I had just slapped her in the face. I was too angry to feel guilty.

"I can't do this here," she said, turning her back and walking out, her sugared cereal and sopping toast abandoned. I stared longingly at my breakfast and followed her anyway. Well, I grabbed a few pieces of sausage and shoveled them down while I followed.

"Can't do what in there?" I asked when we were out of the Great Hall.

"I can't have this fight with you. It's no one's business and I refuse to make a spectacle of this discussion. I trust you. I love you. But I can't tell you. Haven't you ever had something you couldn't tell someone? Something you had to keep to yourself? It's not hurting you to not know. It's only affecting you in your thick head. Besides, you'll find out…later…sometime."

"None of that make any sense! You've said there's nothing going on with you and then you go say you can't tell me what's going on. Which is it? You can't have it both ways Hermione."

"I haven't lied to you."

"Sounds like a lie in there someplace."

"Can't you let it go?" Hermione threw at me.

"Tell me what I'm supposed to let go of and I'll do it," I threw back.

She threw up her arms and stormed off.


	4. Pee

"I have to know what she's doing," I said to Harry. "I can't take this any more."

"What, are you going to ask her again? I think we know by now that won't work. She'll never tell you what's in that package she got with the post at breakfast."

"I know. I'm going to follow her instead." I started walking out of the common room.

"You're going to do _what_?"

"Follow her. Are you coming?" Harry followed me out.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Well, I was hoping to do it later with the cloak but she's leaving now and she's got it with her so I guess stealth will just have to do."

"I meant out of your mind for following her. Not related to cloak versus no cloak. It's insane either way."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

We waited for Hermione to turn a corner before trailing after her. She almost caught us when she looked nervously over her shoulder, but Harry and I ducked away just in time.

We followed her to Moaning Myrtle's lavatory. I was itching to go in after her, but I knew she'd kill me. Without the cloak there was no way do it unseen.

We hid around a corner listening for the door. It felt like forever, but Harry's charmed watch said twenty minutes. I counted to ten after the door slammed before peeking. I watched Hermione's back disappear around a corner leading back to Gryffindor. Her hands swung empty at her sides. Thank god.

"Her hands were empty," I reported to Harry, who hadn't yet bothered to move. "Whatever she had is still in there."

I rushed in without holding the door for Harry. I didn't notice that it had smacked him in the face until he complained about it. I ignored him and rushed over to the sinks. I heard a sound from the stalls but assumed it was the resident psycho. A white stick was resting on the side of one of the porcelain basins. I picked it up and hadn't figured out what it was when Moaning Myrtle started cackling.

"Why are you laughing?" I yelled at her. "I have to figure out what this is."

"She peed on it," Myrtle giggled, doubling over in laughter. I dropped it, and it almost fell through the grate in the floor. Harry and I squatted down to peer at it. Ten seconds later he picked it up with his bare hand.

"Jeez, Harry, she peed on that. Stop touching it. I've been…down there…and _I_ don't even want to touch that."

"Relax," he said.

He swallowed hard and added, "Maybe not."

"You know what this is? And ewwww, stop touching it," I said. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know anymore. If you have to pee on it, it can't be good.

"She didn't pee on this end."

"So you know what is it?" For crying out loud, did he not see how important this is?

"It's a…um…well, it's…I mean…it's a…pregnancy test." I couldn't see my face, but I'm pretty sure I paled when he said that. I felt like all the blood in my body had disappeared.

"But you can't test for that. I mean, medi-Wizards can. But peeing can't."

"Muggles can. Are you telling me that Wizards haven't figured all this out yet? You have flying cars and hats that sing and teachers who turn into cats. I'm pretty sure testing pee is far easier than turning into a cat."

"Harry, that's not really important right now. Is she?"

"Yes."


	5. Technically Not a Lie

Hermione looked across the crowded Gryffindor common room at me. Again. I suppose it was because I was staring and had been for half an hour. It had been a week since Harry and I had found out. Who knows how long since she first suspected. Every time I saw Hermione my heart had pounded waiting for her to tell me. She didn't. I tried to act normal; I didn't want her to know I found out before she told me. Knowing and keeping it to myself was burning a hole in my gut. I didn't know how she managed to keep up her charade so long.

She looked frustrated like my staring was somehow interfering with her ability to do homework. I tried to look away. I kept picturing her changing. I didn't know how long it had been. I was so lost in my thoughts I guess I didn't hear her call my name.

"Ron! Are you even listening to me?" she was yelling across the room. "Ronald Weasley, why are you staring at me?"

"Because I know." The words rushed out of my mouth before I even thought about it. I regretted them as soon as they reached my ears. Hermione flushed and dropped her quill. She was across the room before her chair even hit the ground. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out the portrait hole. Calls of "Ron's in trouble" followed us. I had a feeling they were true.

"You shouldn't have yelled that in there," she yelled at me as she pushed me into our classroom.

"No one knows what I meant."

"That's not the point. _I _know. You completely blindsided me in there. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? We couldn't talk in there."

There was a pause. A long pause. A _really _long pause.

"Aren't you going to yell at me?" she asked.

"Why would I yell at you?"

"I thought you'd be mad at me for not telling you." She looked scared. Scared? She was scared to tell me? I hugged her to me.

"I'm not. Oh, Hermione, I'm not. That's what you thought all this time?"

"I hated not telling you. I didn't know what to say. And it didn't matter because I couldn't say anything. I thought you'd be angry this is happening and angry at me for not telling you. I hated deceiving you. And even though I wasn't lying it felt like lying because you thought I was lying. It is a woman thing, but not the thing you thought of. I just couldn't explain it to you. I missed you. But I just felt so guilty. Being with you felt so wrong when I was keeping this a secret. And I was scared of what could happen to us."

I didn't need to hear more. I kissed her. And for the first time in a long time she kissed me back without hesitating. My vixen was back. I led her to the back corner, behind the tables and out of sight. Our pile of blankets was there, as always. We lay down. It had been so long since we had…you-know…that we had never tried to get…there… faster. Shoes flew. My shirt was off, hers unbuttoned. I ran a hand down her body to undo her jeans. Instead, my hand stopped on her stomach. I wanted this so badly, but I couldn't make my hand move.

"Ron?" she questioned. I couldn't answer. I couldn't think. I couldn't _breathe_. This was the first time it felt real to me.

"Ron?" she asked again.

"Hermione, I can't."

"You are mad at me," she said as she buttoned her shirt.

"I'm not. I swear," I said. "Doesn't this feel wrong to you?"

"Yes. I mean, no, I mean, I belong in your arms. And the whole time I kept this from you I felt so damn guilty that I didn't think I deserved to be there." Her hands shook as she tried to tie her shoes. I put my arms around her. She threw them off.

"No, Ronald. None of this passive-aggressive rubbish. You can't just say everything is fine and then lob guilt at me for going back to the way things were. You want to be angry? Fine. Be angry. I'd be furious if I were you. But don't lie to me. I didn't lie to you. I was deceitful, vigilant in my word choice, and careful with my phrasing. But I did not lie to you."

"You do belong in my arms," I told her. "It's just that…well, things aren't the way they were before. Things are changing. What if the baby _knows_? What if I poke it on accident or something? I can't do this with you," I cringed, expecting her to tell me that I was being stupid. She twisted out of my arms.

"You think I'm pregnant?" It was more accusation than question. I managed to nod.

"Have you lost your mind?" Also more accusation than question. "How? Why? Do you really think I'd keep something like that from you? That we wouldn't be having a discussion now that you 'know'? Just, why? Where did you get this?"

"Harry and I sort of followed you the day that-"

"You and Harry _followed_ me?"

"If it makes a difference, he was trying to talk me out of it," I said meekly.

"Not a damn bit of difference. Followed me when?"

"The day you got that brown box in the post. We followed you to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and waited outside for you to leave. You left without the box, so we went in. The test thingy was on one of the sinks. Harry told me what it was for. I-I don't understand. It wasn't yours?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Then why were you acting so weird?" I asked. She scooted away from me, and I was beginning to get very angry that we had gotten back to that place.

"Because I felt guilty."

"Why?"

"I couldn't tell you then, and I can't tell you now," she said. At least she had the decency to look ashamed of herself.

"What is the big secret you're keeping from me?" She didn't answer, but I started to piece things together. "If it wasn't your test, whose was it?" She didn't answer this question either, but the look on her face told me that I was on the right track. "Why do you feel so bad about keeping this from me? It's not like I care whose test that—-was."

Oh, god. It hit me. It _couldn't_ be- It _had_ to be-

"Hermione, no," I whispered, like saying it softly was going to make it less true. "Not Ginny, please."

Hermione looked like she couldn't decide whether she should cry, run, or throw up. I hoped none. She cried.

"I'm sorry, Ron, so sorry. I knew you would have wanted to know, but I couldn't tell you. I couldn't do that to her," she hiccupped.

"Why did she put you in the middle of this?"

"Because she had no where else to go. Because I'm like family to her. Who do you go to when you're in trouble?"

"You."

"When you can't talk to me."

"Harry."

"When you can't talk to Harry. When Harry doesn't know enough to help you," she sounded fed up like I wasn't answering right. At least the crying had stopped.

"Bill or Charlie."

"Finally. Thank you. You go to your brothers. This is the same thing."

"Not the same thing. _I'm_ her brother. She didn't say a word to me."

"There are some things girls just don't talk about with brothers. Like boys. And kissing, and bras, and sex, and periods, and pregnancy. Ginny needed a sister."

"You're right. I wouldn't want to talk about any of those things with her." I pulled Hermione into a tight hug. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of her. And I'm sorry. For everything I said. I-I get it now. That's what you had to do….Who? Who is he?"

I tried not to ask. I hated putting her back in the middle. I hated breaking that delicate truce we'd finally reached. But Ginny's my sister. I _had_ to ask. "No" was her only answer. We stood like that for awhile. Eventually I broke away.

"I should go talk to her," I said. Hermione looked horror-stricken.

"No! Wait. There's-um-something you should know. You have to understand why she hasn't told anyone, even now that she's sure. She thinks that Fred and George will go after him. She thinks that your parents will be upset. But she's more afraid to tell you than anyone else."

"Why? Why is she more afraid of me?" That hurt, and I knew Hermione could tell.

"She's afraid that you'll be disappointed in her, that you'll think less of her. I tried to tell her that's ridiculous, but she's just so scared of everything right now."

"Fine. You tell her. She and I can talk later."

"Bad plan, Ron. She'll get really upset if I tell her you know. She'll avoid you and eventually calm down. And then when she has to face you she'll go through it all again."

"We can't just not tell her."

"I know," Hermione sighed. Women are so hard to understand. You can't talk to them and you can't not talk to them. Everything you do makes them angry or makes them cry. It must be my night for thinking (too bad this didn't happen at exam time), because I just came up with a plan.

"I've got it figured out." Hermione looked doubtful. "You take her into a classroom and tell her. Then I come in and keep her from running out. Then she has to deal with it all at once."

"I don't want to do this to her," Hermione frowned. I hugged her.

"We have to."


	6. 10 Points from Gryffindor

We decided to wait until Ginny was done with lessons on Friday before breaking the news to her. Hermione and I spent an excessive amount of time with Harry between that Tuesday night and Friday.

Hermione caught up to Ginny in an empty corridor while I lagged behind. I waited until they were safely into a classroom before sneaking to listen at the doorway.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Ron knows." I had to give Hermione credit: I could not have blurted it out like that.

I couldn't make out what Ginny said after that, but I could tell she was crying. Hard. I almost couldn't bear to go in. But like I kept telling Hermione, we had to do it. I walked in a few steps.

"Ginny…" I didn't know what else to say. She looked at me for barely a second before staring back at the floor. She was crying so hard I thought she was going to choke, and it broke my heart to see her in that much pain. She tried to run out, but I was strategically placed. I wrapped my arms around her from behind as she tried to slip past me. She struggled but her arms were at her sides.

"NO...no…no…no," Ginny screamed over and over again like she wanted to make this less real. She seemed to be half a step from kicking. I prayed for my shins and… higher than my shins.

I looked helplessly at Hermione, but she was practically in tears. I couldn't picture things getting any worse, but as always, things did.

" .Mr. Weasley." I didn't have to turn around to recognize Snape's voice.

"No. She's my sister." I winced. _That_ is going to get me in trouble.

"10 points from Gryffindor. Put her down. Or you will be enjoying a detention reorganizing my store room."

Ginny stopped fighting and collapsed against me, still sobbing loudly. I didn't know if she was afraid of Snape or calming down, but I really didn't care. I'd take what I could get.

"Severus! What on Earth is going on in here?" I didn't have to turn to recognize that voice either.

"Well, Professor McGonagall, it seems that your Gryffindor students are causing a commotion. Mr. Weasley here refuses to put the Weasley girl down. She's making quite a fuss."

"I can take it from here." I heard Snape stalk off; his footsteps were practically swearing at McGonagall. "I have never seen a student this upset. What's going on here?"

"It's a family thing, Professor," I said softly.

"Should I get your brothers, Mr. Weasley?"

"NO," Ginny, Hermione, and I all shouted.

"Perhaps owl your parents, then?" McGonagall asked. I was sure she was trying to help, but she was making things worse. Ginny wailed and started fighting again.

I heard Hermione say "Professor, may I talk to you in the hall?" McGonagall must have agreed because Hermione walked out.

Ginny didn't have much fight left in her. She turned and hugged me. She hadn't hugged me like that since she was five and Peter Willows told her that he didn't like her because her red hair was ugly.

"Who is it, Gin?" I asked softly.

"I can't tell you. You'll be angry."

"I'm going to find out sooner or later."

"Then how about later. Hasn't today been bad enough? I really don't think I can deal with listening to you go on about feeling betrayed."


	7. Harry's Secret Girlfriend

"Harry James Potter," I thundered, storming into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. He was so startled that he and his book tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. "Have you been secretly dating?"

"No," he said. He stood and straightened his glasses. His eyes wouldn't meet mine and I didn't believe him for a second.

"You are _far _better off telling me now before she tells me later, I swear to god."

"Why would Cho tell you we've been seeing each other? And why's it such a big deal to you?"

"Because she-wait-what? Cho?" I was getting really tired of things not being the way I figured them out. What was the point of thinking if I was always wrong?

"Yeah, Cho. She got some flak from some of the Hufflepuff girls about betraying Cedric's memory. It was really bitchy and I told her that she should just tell them to fuck off, but she's really upset by it, so we're keeping it on the down low. Who did you think it was?"

Wow. What are the odds that Harry was having a secret relationship with Cho when I accused-almost accused- him of sleeping with my sister? Hermione could have told me it wasn't him. Short of listing every person it's not, it wouldn't really violate the she-can't-tell-me thing.

"What? Oh, no one. I'm just nosy and don't like being left out," I said lamely. "I have to go find Hermione."

"Library," he yelled after me as I raced out.

I found Hermione at her favorite table in the library, the back corner. She had a stack of books on one side and a stack of notes on the other. I pulled up a seat next to her.

"I can't take it anymore. Just tell me who it is," I whispered.

"Johannes Wrackmunkle."

"What? Who the hell is that?"

"Honestly, if you paid any attention in class, you'd know who that was. I guess you can only go one topic with good notes and then have to skip the next one, keeping up your reputation? I assumed you were asking me who wrote the treaty that ended the Goblin wars of the sixteenth century."

"Why would you assume something that stupid?"

"Because I'm trying to work on my History of Magic essay and I don't have time for this. In fact, you should be working on your essay."

"One name. Two, three syllables maybe. Not that time-consuming."

"I meant arguing with you. I'm not going to tell you, no matter how much you pester me. Ginny will tell you when she's ready. Or when you figure it out. Can you just respect my decision on this?"

I started to say no, but she had an infuriating point. She's always going on about respecting people and their decisions. Arg. I didn't have time to respect her decision. I needed to know now.


	8. The Mystery Man

It was two weeks before Ginny decided she was ready to tell…whomever he was… about the whole situation She wanted me and Hermione there for support. I could tell she was scared, but she didn't want to admit it. I wasn't particularly sure I wanted to watch, but at least I'd get to find out who it was. And I couldn't possibly turn her down. She needed me. And, truth be told, it was nice that she needed me and not one, or both, of the twins. Not that they're ever needed for anything serious. That'd be like bringing confetti to a funeral. Which, actually, I would not put past the two of them.

It was a nice Saturday and the people who weren't at Hogsmeade were mostly outside. Ginny paced the empty Transfiguration classroom as we waited. Hermione and I stood off to the side. Hermione looked calm like she had some weird belief that this would all go well. Ginny, on the other hand, looked like she was going to vomit.

"I can't do this," Ginny said.

"Can't do what?" a voice asked from the doorway. Ooooh, I recognized that voice. And Ginny was right, I did feel betrayed. Hermione stepped on my foot and gave me a pointed glance. I kept my mouth shut.

"I…" Ginny looked over at me and Hermione.

"Ron! What are you…I can explain…" the boyfriend babbled, having followed her gaze and noticed me. I opened my mouth to speak, but Hermione cut me off.

"That's really not important right now," she said evenly. "You can do it, Ginny. It'll be ok."

Ginny looked so pale and so lost. She was biting her lip nervously and looked like she was shaking. Hermione went over and pulled out a chair for her. Ginny sat quietly, looking around as though she couldn't find the safest place for her gaze to linger.

"He can handle it," I said. I wasn't thrilled that he'd gone behind my back, but I don't think she could have picked a more stand-up guy. The two feelings were disconcerting.

"I can't handle it," Ginny said, staring at the floor.

"Guys, what's going on? I feel like I'm really missing something here," the boyfriend said, still lingering near the door as though he thought he'd need a quick escape away from me. On any other day he'd have been right.

Hermione and I stood silently, unwilling to break the news unless explicitly asked to do so. And I so hoped we wouldn't be asked to do so. Ginny stayed still in her chair.

"I can't do this," Ginny repeated.

"You have to," I said.

"You can't make me," she said petulantly. She was backing down, and I couldn't sit by and let her put it off, let her keep torturing herself.

"If that's what it takes, I will," I said supportively.

"Is this some sort of breakup? Ron, are you putting her up to this? Hermione?"

"No, it's not a breakup," I told him. "Ginny has something she needs to tell you, and Hermione and I just want to be here for her."

He crossed over to her and knelt down. He took her hands and tried to look her in the eye, but she didn't cooperate. "Gin, you can tell me anything," he said to her.

"It'll be ok, Ginny," Hermione told her when she didn't answer.

"I'm pregnant, Neville."


End file.
